4 stars (out of four)
When we first see Jasmine (Cate Blanchett), she seems well
put together. Elegant, riding in first class, lounging in her chair like she’s
just bought the world on credit, she dishes the details of her divorce to the
elderly woman seated beside her. Gabbing all the way to baggage claim, you
might call her overly chatty or brazenly forthcoming with personal details, but
she certainly presents herself as a picture of poise.
Blue Jasmine, the new
film written and directed by Woody Allen, depicts the steady unraveling of this
woman’s persona. Bubbling just underneath her designer clothes and meticulously
maintained golden blonde hair is a twitchy, desperate woman who, we learn, has
just suffered a nervous breakdown and appears to be on the verge of another.
Allen often writes neurotic characters into his scripts,
usually as a stand-in for his own anxious persona, but Jasmine is a far more
complex character than the typical dyspeptic types found in so many of Allen’s
comedies. Her problems run much deeper than phobias and a surly worldview; her
life of luxury has been violently ripped out from underneath her, a fact she
attempts to avoid with corrosive self-deception.
Through conversations and flashbacks, we learn that Jasmine’s
husband Hal (Alec Baldwin), a hugely successful entrepreneur, has been
convicted of fraud. His empire, including Jasmine’s cushy Park Avenue
lifestyle, turns out to have been built on lies and deceit, and has
subsequently been snatched away by the U.S. government.
Now broke and hopelessly lost, Jasmine turns to her
couldn’t-be-more-different sister, Ginger (a charmingly dizzy Sally Hawkins),
who graciously takes Jasmine in despite their past. (Ginger and her ex-husband
Augie (Andrew Dice Clay, somehow both gruff and cuddly) were collateral damage
in one of Hal’s schemes.) Jasmine will live with Ginger and her two young boys
in their modest San Francisco apartment, at least until she gets her feet back
on the ground.
The film’s tone ducks and weaves with Blanchett’s
performance. One moment, Blue Jasmine is
a social comedy, the next it’s an unnerving portrait of mental illness. The
comedy comes largely from Ginger, her new mechanic boyfriend Chili (Bobby
Cannavale with a hilariously long strand of hair slicked behind his ear), and a
spare handful of the people who enter and exit their lives. (Louis C.K. has a
nice supporting turn as a competing love interest of Ginger’s.)
These characters are a rowdy and deeply flawed bunch, and
from Jasmine’s condescending, undeservedly privileged vantage point, they seem
painfully uncultured. On a lunch date with Ginger, Chili and his dopey pal
Eddie (Max Casella, getting the biggest laughs of the movie), she doesn’t just
order a vodka. She orders a Stoli with a twist of lemon.
But these people are also full of life. Compare them to
Jasmine, who walks around in a fog of misery, bumping into men both good and
bad (Peter Sarsgaard as a widowed and heartbroken man with great ambitions, and
Michael Stuhlbarg as an unsavory dentist).
All the while, Jasmine’s past follows her around like a
malignant shadow. The story of Hal’s crimes is more than just fabulously juicy
gossip; it is part of her identity. It’s how she gets introduced at parties.
She can’t escape it.
Woody Allen has juggled the comedic and the tragic before,
but rarely with such a deft touch. He has an ear for idle conversation and his
social dialogue is as on point as ever. But he also shows an unprecedented
boldness by presenting Jasmine as a very real, very complicated individual. The
script hits some decidedly minor notes. Sometimes these moments are offset with
comedic relief. Sometimes the laughs come from a less comfortable place.
Allen is a terrifically prolific filmmaker (he’s stayed on
pace at a movie a year for more than four decades), though not a very
consistent one (his films fall all over the map in terms of quality). Blue
Jasmine ranks in the highest tier of his
work and is perhaps his best film since 2005’s simmering noir thriller Match
Point. It’s a smart, compassionate and
funny film, anchored by Cate Blanchett’s remarkable performance. Jasmine is
wretched but also vulnerable, bitter but sadly disillusioned. There is much
that is buried deep inside her and Woody Allen proves a fearless excavator.
- Steve Avigliano, 8/22/13
